


A Legal Matter

by TheNightComesDown



Category: The Who (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bands, F/M, Flint - Freeform, Holiday Inn, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jeith - Freeform, Kissing, Michigan, Mild Language, Partying, The Who AU, The Who Fic, Touring, Vomiting, moontwistle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightComesDown/pseuds/TheNightComesDown
Summary: Keith Moon's 21st birthday falls on the date of a Who show in Flint, Michigan.Shenanigans ensue, the police get involved, and John finds himself in an awkward situation with the girl he's keen on.





	A Legal Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [7 Minutes in Heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/486601) by entwistlesmustache. 



> Inspired by true (but debated) events, this is a fictional depiction of The Who, and is not intended to be a historical representation of the group. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, the "spin the bottle" part of this story was loosely inspired by the work I've linked above from Wattpad. It's important to give credit where credit is due!

“Everyone into the centre of the room!” Keith crowed, using a cardboard paper towel tube to amplify his voice. “We’re starting in one minute, and if you don’t play, you’re not allowed to stay. Them’s the rules!” Nearly 20 people were stuffed into his cramped hotel room, which wasn’t terribly conducive to playing games. Because it was Keith’s birthday and he had insisted, the group of rambunctious young adults agreed to gather round for a game of ‘Spin the Bottle’.

“This is stupid,” Roger complained, toying with the collar of his shirt, which was unbuttoned nearly to his navel. “We’ve got a show tomorrow night.” As much as he liked to let loose and have a good time, he was beginning to get anxious about the possibility of the hotel staff kicking you all out. It might be Keith Moon’s 21st birthday, but there were still some limits to what could and couldn’t happen in a public place. 

“You can’t leave just yet,” John complained. “Keith’d be so disappointed if you weren’t around. Plus,” he pointed out, “someone’ll need to carry Pete back up to your room. Poor boy looks as though he’s been swimming in brandy all night.” Sure enough, the young guitarist was sweat-soaked and red in the face, and didn’t appear to be hearing much of the conversation around him; he wasn’t always cognisant of his limits when it came to drinking. 

“Bet you five quid our little Peter gets sick on someone,” Roger said, holding a hand out to John. The bassist shook it, knowing very well that he was likely to lose his money. Pete had never had a good constitution for drinking, and he thought it quite possible that the man had mixed his liquor with other substances that might increase the effects of the alcohol. 

“Make a circle then, lads and lasses,” Keith instructed, interrupting his friends’ conversation by shoving them aside to make room for another person. You grimaced apologetically to both as the drummer directed you to sit between them, effectively making it impossible for them to continue chatting. The birthday boy didn’t like the arrangement that everyone had set themselves in originally, so he shuffled his guests around until he felt satisfied with the distribution – it was just your luck that he put you between two of the more attractive attendees at his party. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” you murmured, tucking your skirt over your knees as you sat on the floor between them. Roger and John scooted back to give you some space, but you still ended up frequently bumping shoulders with both. Roger eyed you curiously, and you returned his gaze with a sweet smile. 

“I’m Y/N, from the road crew,” you explained, lowering your voice so as not to compete with Keith as he explained the rules to the game. “I’m a costuming assistant.” Roger nodded in acknowledgement; there were plenty of faces he didn’t recognize, but yours was one he wanted to remember. To your right, John was thinking the same thing. He sucked in a sharp breath as his knuckles accidentally brushed your exposed ankle, hoping you didn’t think he’d done it on purpose. 

“’S’alright,” you told him. “John, right?” 

“Entwistle, yeah,” he confirmed, extending a large hand. “I’ve seen you around backstage once or twice. Think you did a bit of work on my favourite pair of trousers after I busted the seam before a show.” Recalling the panicked expression on the bassist’s face when he brought in his red flare-bottomed trousers, you let out a tinkling laugh. It had been an easy fix, and John’s relief had been evident when you had returned them to him. 

“You’ve got to stop moving around so much on stage, Mr. Entwistle,” you teased, elbowing him playfully. “That’s the root of your trouble.” John picked up on your joke immediately; he was known as the statue of the band, always standing still in the corner of the stage while frontman Roger swung his microphone around, and Pete jumped up and down for the audience’s amusement. Before John could respond to your comment, however, Keith shushed everyone with his makeshift microphone. 

“Right-o, then,” he said, imitating a posh London accent, “let’s get to it. We’ll start with the lovely Miss Kim. Give the bottle a spin, darling.” With a smirk, Keith’s girlfriend spun the bottle without much effort. It swung directly towards Keith, whose eyes lit up as if God himself had arranged this result. 

“Alright, let’s have a kiss then,” John called out. “Keep it brief, you two, or we’ll never get on with things.” Keith gave his giggling girlfriend a loud smack on the lips and let out a roaring cackle when he pulled back. You were certain that at the drummer’s level of intoxication, no kiss would ever be very good, but Kim was a good sport; her kiss coated the skin above and below Keith’s mouth stained with bright red lipstick, and he made no move to wipe it away. 

The bottle continued around the circle, and you let out a relieved breath every time the neck of the bottle stopped, pointing towards someone else. The man to Kim’s left gave it a spin, and ended up giving a chaste, embarrassed peck to the assistant of the band’s manager, who had somehow been convinced to join in on Keith’s birthday shenanigans. Roger received a number of kisses, as did Keith. Pete, who was nearly asleep by now, had given a sloppy drunk kiss to one of the male roadies, resulting in a roar of laughter from the group. The guitarist seemed more comfortable with the idea than the roadie, either because he was too drunk to care, or because he didn’t mind kissing boys; you assumed the later, having seen Pete get rather handsy backstage with Mick Jagger on one occasion. 

When John’s turn came around, the bottle pointed towards Keith, who grasped the raven-haired man’s cheeks with both hands, and attempted to plant an outrageous smooch directly on his lips. John, seeing this coming, intercepted the kiss with the back of his hand, which he and Keith lost their minds giggling about. They were the best of friends, so John had known exactly how to outsmart the younger man. 

“Come on then, Y/N,” one of the other assistants from the costume department called out when you hesitated to reach for the empty wine bottle. “We’re all doing it. Just give it a spin!” Reluctantly, you did as you were bid. To everyone’s surprise, when the bottle stopped, it pointed directly at you. 

“Well, looks like I’m saved,” you shrugged; _what a relief_. With a flourish of your hand, you kissed your palm and patted yourself on the back with it. Drunken Pete booed you for not participating, as did a few others in the group. Keith held up a hand to silence the crowd; he had a solution to this sort of situation. 

“No, no, Miss Y/N,” Keith scolded you. “No one gets off that easily. Since it landed on you, we’ll give you a choice. You can kiss the person directly to your left, _or_ to your right.” You felt your heart beat quicker in your chest at the idea of having to choose between Roger and John, both significant figures on the tour, being members of the band. They had also both been eyeing you the entire game, and were secretly hoping that their spin would land on you. 

“How on earth am I supposed to choose?” you protested. “That’s not fair at all. I think it’s best if we just skip over my turn.” John shifted nervously beside you, wondering whether it would be more disappointing to see you sit the round out, or to watch you kiss Roger. Either way, the result seemed unsatisfying. Surely, you would pick his bandmate, whose long curly hair and bright eyes tended to captivate groupies more often than the looks of any other band member. 

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” Kim hollered across the circle. “Just pick one already, it isn’t hard!” Despite her insistence, you still felt stuck. This wasn’t a great position to be in; maybe you should have just ignored the invitation, or pretended to have a stomach bug when the other girls begged you to come along earlier in the night. 

“Oh, to hell with it,” Roger groaned, “just do it. Like this.” Before you could stop him, Roger leaned in and enveloped your mouth with his, ending the debate once and for all. John laughed along with everyone else, but seemed to draw further into himself as a way to cope with the disappointment. You hadn’t turned Roger down, so clearly, that must mean you liked him. In fact, the blonde vocalist drew the kiss out so long that Keith himself had to clear his throat to separate the two of you. When Roger sat back on his heels, you wiped your mouth off on the back of your hand and tried to swat the stars out of your eyes. _That was some kiss,_ you thought. 

When no one was looking his way, John silently excused himself and stepped out of the hotel room, shutting the door with such little force that no one heard or saw him go – no one but you, of course. Before he had reached the end of the hall, you were out of the room, running after him. 

“John!” you hollered, hoping you weren’t disturbing anyone during their sleep. The tall, broad-shouldered man stopped in his tracks and glanced back towards you. To his great surprise, you had left the party, even after being sucked into a social situation that didn’t seem to be that unpleasant on your part. John himself had only heard good things from female sources about Roger’s proficiency in the kissing department, so when he realized that you had left Roger to come after him, he felt a surge of hope. 

“Hi,” John greeted you when you reached him. You put your hands on your knees and bent forward, supporting yourself while you attempted to catch your breath. 

“I…saw you leave, and…had to talk to you,” you puffed, wheezing uncomfortably as you tried to get your words out. John, however, held out a hand, telling you to slow down, take a breather. 

“Was getting a bit cramped in there,” John told you, creating an excuse for his speedy departure. “Bit warm, as well.” You raised a curious eyebrow; it was clear he wasn’t going to admit the real reason for leaving. 

“Yeah, was a bit warm,” you agreed. “Got kind of weird, too.” John ran his index finger along the side of his nose, fidgeting awkwardly as he tried to think of something else to say. As you shifted on the balls of your feet, the hall light above reflected off the necklace you were wearing, and the shimmer caught his eye. The shape of the stone, a wide teardrop, was one he hadn’t seen before, so John stepped closer to take a closer look. 

“What’s this?” he asked, lightly touching the chain. His finger brushed against your collarbone, and you visibly shivered. “Sorry,” he apologized, pulling his hand away. 

“S’alright,” you smiled, slipping a finger beneath your necklace and holding it away from your skin so he could take a better look. “It’s an opal, my birthstone. Got it from my parents when I turned 18.” Rainbows danced across the stone’s surface, as if it contained a bit of magic. 

“Lovely,” John murmured, meeting your eyes. When the word left his mouth, you knew he was talking about you, not the necklace. Your cheeks flushed pink, and you tried to change the subject, not because you didn’t appreciate his compliment, but because you didn’t like to be the centre of attention. 

“And where’s your little friend this evening?” you teased, glancing at the collar of his shirt. “I guess even Boris needs a night off every now and then, yeah?” John chuckled and bit his lower lip; he tended to save the necklace for use onstage, but it was cute that you asked about it. 

“I have a few of them, actually,” he explained. “A black and red one I had made for myself, and a blue one Keith gave me as a gift last year.” You hummed in response, appreciating the little anecdote. 

“So, where are you off to now?” you wondered. “Won’t Keith be cross that you left his party?” John laughed sarcastically and rolled his eyes; it would surprise him if Keith even noticed his absence. The young fellow was drunk and had plenty of other people to entertain him. 

“Thought I’d take a bit of a drive,” John lied, knowing very well he had no driver’s license, and that his handler who usually drove him around was occupied in the corner of his and Keith’s shared hotel room, keeping an eye on the drummer. You pressed your lips together, also aware of these facts, but decided not to press him on it. Instead, you offered an alternative. 

“How do you feel about taking a bit of a risk?” you challenged. “Nothing illegal, of course, just a bit of innocent fun.” John narrowed his eyes, not quite understanding. “Oh, come on,” you insisted, “it’ll be great. Trust me.” 

* * * * * 

The outdoor pool was closed for the night, so the overhead lights were turned off, but it was easy enough for the two of you to hop over the fence and onto the deck area. As you’d suspected, there was no security guard supervising the area. 

“I haven’t brought my bathing costume,” John said hesitantly when he realized what you were planning. A coy smile crossed your lips, and you responded with three words that made his heart leap in his chest. 

“Neither did I.” 

As soon as you began unbuttoning your blouse, John’s mouth dropped open. He did his best not to stare, choosing instead to occupy himself with the buttons on his own shirt, but he couldn’t help but sneak a peak at your lacy white bra. Your skirt came off next, and John nervously fumbled with the zipper of his trousers. When he looked over at you again, you were detaching your stockings from the suspenders of your girdle. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath, trying his best to think innocent thoughts – you hadn’t invited him to kiss you or anything, so as far as he knew, this was just a friendly dip in the pool. 

“Alright, Entwistle, you ready?” you asked, reaching up to pull your hair back into a messy updo. Making no effort to hide your stare, you looked John up and down and nodded approvingly. _I can see why the girls all fawn over him,_ you thought to yourself. John swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, clasping his hands in front of his briefs. He’d never felt so exposed, even though he’d been with plenty of women. Something about standing outdoors in front of you made him self-conscious in a way he didn’t expect. 

“Loosen up, love,” you teased, noticing his hesitance. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just you and me.” You walked forward until you were right in front of him, and you grabbed his wrists, which you pulled to guide him to the steps at the shallow end of the pool. Glancing over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure you wouldn’t fall in, you navigated your way to the edge of the pool, and took a deep breath as you stepped down, still tugging John along with you. 

The water was surprisingly warm, but you still inhaled sharply when your foot hit the water for the first time. John shivered in the cool evening air, but he followed you in anyway. Once you had reached the bottom of the stairs, you released John’s hands and dunked yourself entirely below the water. When you came back up, your hair was dripping, and you had to wipe water from your face to avoid the sting of chlorine in your eyes. John did the same, but chose to slick his hair back to keep it out of his face. 

“Is this a good look on me?” he smirked, knowing full well that his unruly dark hair was sticking up in all directions on the sides. You laughed quietly and nodded, truly believing that he did look good. Now that he was in the pool, he felt more confident, knowing that nothing was particularly visible beneath the dark water. 

“Do you swim?” you murmured, walking backwards towards the deep end. 

“Course I swim,” he frowned. “Can’t you?” You shrugged, slowing down as he advanced towards you. 

“Not well,” you admitted. “Just well enough not to drown in a pool.” John came closer, and you took a chance by reaching forward and setting your hands on his chest. His skin was warm, and particularly pale in the light of the moon. Looking down at your hands, he decided that maybe, you didn’t like Roger as much as he’d thought earlier. 

“We don’t have to swim,” he assured you, revealing his teeth as he smiled. They were slightly off-kilter, and the two on either side of his top front teeth were pointy like a vampire’s; you adored him instantly. 

“What shall we do instead?” you wondered. He raised an eyebrow suggestively, and chose that moment to set his hands on your hips beneath the water. Moving your hands from his chest and up over the smooth skin of his shoulders and neck, you wove your fingers into his hair, resting your thumbs over his sideburns. He sighed happily at the feeling, and took a moment to look into your eyes. 

“Can I kiss you, or should I leave that to Roger?” he asked, his eyes twinkling devilishly. As much as he could see how interested you were in him, he still felt a bit miffed by the way Roger had swept you away at Keith’s party. He’d wanted to be the one to do that, but he had waited just a moment too long. 

“Ooh, that savours strongly of jealousy,” you cooed. “Were you jealous, John?” In answer, he dipped his face down to meet yours, and rested his nose alongside your own. The bassist’s expression was more serious now; you felt his grip tighten on your waist. 

“Should I have been?” he whispered, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. You shook your head without hesitation, certain that despite Roger’s apparent interest, you weren’t interested in looking any further than the dark, mysterious man holding you. 

“I want _you. _”__

__As soon as the words left your lips, John was kissing you. If his earlier nervousness had convinced you he’d be gentle, you were wrong. His mouth crushed yours with a fervour you hadn’t expected, and you matched his energy by pulling at his hair, which your fingers were still threaded through. When his hands slipped down your thighs underwater, you lifted your feet from the ground and wrapped them tightly around his waist. He stepped forward, pressing your back against the pool wall for balance._ _

__If the two of you could have remained in the pool all night, you would have; after all, there really wasn’t anywhere else to go. John’s room was full of drunk 20-somethings celebrating Keith’s party. The girls you shared a room with would likely return at some point. Roger and Pete wouldn’t share, nor would either of you want to join them – it would likely end in someone holding Pete’s hair back while he was sick into the toilet, while listening to Roger shag some groupie on the other side of the bathroom door. A good snog in the pool seemed the best option, then, until you were interrupted by the hotel security guard’s flashlight._ _

__“Excuse me, you can’t be here,” a voice called out from a few yards away. John pulled away from you suddenly, and you covered your chest with your arms in embarrassment. The water seemed colder now, and the night air much more blustery than it had been when you first came outside._ _

__“Are you patrons here at the Holiday Inn?” the security guard inquired, staring at John rather than you out of courtesy. You both nodded, and John cleared his throat to give his name and room number, but a garbled voice began to speak over the guard’s radio. The static obscured some of the words, but the three of you were able to make out the important details:_ _

__“Fire extinguishers…cake everywhere…guest without clothes…police have been called.” The guard sighed heavily, shaking his head._ _

__“I’m going to let you folks off with a warning, for obvious reasons,” he grumbled. “Please refrain from using the pool outside of normal hours of operation.”_ _

__“Understood, thank you,” John spluttered, grabbing your arm and pulling you back towards the pool stairs. Neither of you had thought to bring towels, and as such, were dripping wet as you ran to grab your clothes. The security guard had run back towards the hotel and left the gate to the pool area open, so you and John scurried out that way instead of having to climb back over the fence. The wail of sirens became audible a moment later, as did the unmistakable cackle of John’s best friend, who was stark naked and running like hell across the hotel parking lot._ _

__The two of you found a grouping of bushes with a view of the front of the hotel, and decided to stand there, out of the public eye, for the time being. Meeting the police in your wet underwear didn’t seem the greatest idea, and neither did getting arrested for being seen with Keith. As much as John loved the man, he preferred to keep his police record as clean as possible. When your teeth started to chatter, John pressed a kiss the top of your head, and put an arm around you for warmth._ _

__“Good thing we didn’t stay at the party,” you whispered._ _

__* * * * *_ _

__Two hours later, you and John found yourselves in the back of a car, still in your underwear, but now wrapped in the towels the Holiday Inn had begrudgingly given to you. Roger was raging about Keith’s behaviour in the front seat, and Pete was passed out with his head in John’s lap. The four of you were headed to a small motor inn, the only place willing to take you in after the events of that night._ _

__“Are you fucking hearing me, John?” Roger bellowed, turning to look back at his bandmate. “We’ve been banned from the Holiday Inn _FOR LIFE_. Not just the one here in Flint, either - ALL OF THEM.” John’s eyes flickered towards you, and it was clear that he was trying to hold back his laughter. The situation was awful, but you had to admit, seeing Keith standing beside the Rolls Royce he’d sunk in the pool was incredibly funny.” _ _

__“Yes, Rog, I was there when they said it,” John said sympathetically. “Well, not _right_ there, but I heard it.” You and John had called Roger’s room from a payphone down the street, and he’d sent someone to pick them up. When you made it back to the hotel, the staff hadn’t even allowed you up to your rooms to change. From what they could see, you were as guilty of shenanigans as Keith and his other guests, and as such, would have to wait to retrieve your belongings when they were delivered to the next hotel the following morning. _ _

__“At least they’re taking him to get his tooth fixed before they bring him to the station,” you said, trying to see the bright side of things. “His mouth looked pretty bad.”_ _

__Roger couldn’t care any less about the tooth Keith had knocked out after slipping on the pool deck; as far as he was concerned, the biggest issue was that they had lost their accommodations for most of the remainder of their tour stops, and that they would possibly be short a drummer for some of their shows. Not to mention the financial consequence of Keith’s actions – they would lose the damage deposit on most of the rooms they had booked, and were responsible for a significant cleaning bill, plus repairs to someone’s luxury vehicle, lawyer fees, the repair of the pool fence, and a number of other things they weren’t aware of yet._ _

__“Imagine what would’ve happened if you’d gone to bed, Roger,” John said, leaning forward to pat his friend’s shoulder. “Could have been so much worse.” Roger groaned and leaned forward in his seat until his head was between his knees. The driver, John and Keith’s handler, glanced over at him to make sure he wasn’t about to vomit on the floor of the car._ _

__“Never should have asked you to join my stupid band, Entwistle,” Roger moaned. “You brought Pete, and the three of us chose that idiot Keith together.”_ _

__“None of this would have happened without you, Roger,” John smiled, knowing he was only working the vocalist up more. “Take pride in that. Without you, the Flint Holiday Inn would still have functioning fire extinguishers.”_ _

__“And wouldn’t have cake on the ceiling of their lobby,” you chimed in. John burst into laughter and leaned in to kiss you, despite the fact that Roger was right there._ _

__“You two are disgusting,” Roger grouched, folding his arms over his chest and resting his head against the window of the car._ _

__As the car rolled over a significant bump, Pete let out a moan and a gurgling sound, and proceeded to vomit directly onto John’s bare legs. John yelped, you scrambled back to keep from getting any sick on yourself, and Pete sat up, dazed and nauseous but slightly more awake than he had been previously. Roger let out a barking laugh, startling the driver._ _

__“Why are you laughing, you arsehole?” John screeched, trying to towel off his legs. “This is bloody disgusting!” Roger glanced back at his friend, and had tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks._ _

__“You owe me five fucking quid, John!”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> We all knew Roger was getting that five quid.


End file.
